New Hogwarts: The New Kid
by Mitchell Robert
Summary: Michael Loren is a transfer student from The Salem Institute. If being the new kid in regular high school isn't hard enough, try transferring to Hogwarts! In the first story, Michael arrives and has to quickly learn to make friends, only to have it all threatened when faced with a challenge unlike any he faced in America- being sorted into a house.
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

"You have got to be kidding me," a strained voice groaned from the back of a carriage. The thestral picked up its pace as it trotted up a slight incline and the view of stone spires and glowing windows disappeared behind a line of dark pines.

"What?" asked a voice opposite of the original.

"It's beautiful!" the first boy said.

"Hmm," the second nodded in seemingly dismissive agreement and returned to a magazine titled _Wand-Tech_. According to print written boldly on the front, the latest trend was programmed wands which could be coded to perform certain spells automatically or something. It was stuff the first boy knew very little about and as such, lowered his head a bit. If the other students found things like the latest in wand coding more interesting than the new kid, he had no hope of making friends.

"Yeah it truly is Michael," a friendly boy chided. He sat next to the one reading the magazine, completing the group. Three boys, all coincidentally blond, sat in a triangle in the carriage as it made its way through the winding path of trees. As if picking up on his downtrodden feelings, the boy continued with a goofy smile. "Was your last school not in a castle?"

It took Michael a second to remember, but it wasn't more than a second before his mind flashed back to the wandering halls and steep staircases. "No, the Salem Institute is definitely not a Medieval castle like that. It's more like..." He raked his brain for the right phrase to perfectly capture what the school he had spent the past six years of his life. Three long, square buildings that stretched five stories surrounded an interior quad. Their brick facades were accented with windows whose panes and shutters were white as snow and the mansard roofs were interrupted by dormer windows. At the end of the quad stood the main house which was also made of brick but stood in a circle topped off with a tall, white dome. Twelve white columns held up a triangular overhang that stood out over the grand doorway.

In his head, Michael could remember it perfectly: the way the light shone through the glass windows of the main house, enveloping them in warmth as they ate happily. He could almost smell the grass in the quad as students lounged on benches or flew around on brooms. Every fall, the trees that lined the quad produced the most delicious apples among their golden leaves. Sure the winters were cold in Massachusetts, but the buildings had plenty of fire places and before Christmas the halls were bewitched to smell of pine.

All of this appeared perfectly in his head and Michael knew that, if he only had a quill and some parchment, he could write it all down. However, being put on the spot and asked to describe the campus orally, all that came out was a very eloquent, "It has bricks and...stuff."

"Oh, cool," the boy replied with a nod of his head and glanced toward his friend's magazine. Michael kicked himself in his mind for sounding so stupid. Of course it was a school with hundreds of students and he'd have more time to find friends. He hadn't minded sitting alone on the train. It gave him time to collect his thoughts before hew knew he'd have to put himself out there. Still, it never hurt to have at least one person he was acquainted with before the first day and so far it seemed he was zero for two.

"So Connors, I was working on my Phoenix project and tweaking the core drive, but I couldn't get it to run with the Sapphire System that's in it now." The boy said to the other sitting next to him. Sitting by each other it was clear that Connors was a decent amount taller than his friend and his short, curly hair was all that could be seen over his magazine.

"Mhm," Connors murmured. Michael heaved a sigh of relief internally. It seemed Connors wasn't just short withe new kids, but with his old friends as well.

"Connors! Phoenix project! Core drive! Sapphire System!" the other boy said as he snapped his friend's magazine shut with a mischievous grin etched upon his face.

"Bran you little wanker!" Connors laughed and jokingly smacked his friend with the magazine rolled up.

"Come on you noob!" Bran taunted. Michael smiled with surprise. Like much of muggle slang, "noob" slipped into the language of the wizarding world in America. However, he was amazed it had done the same in Britain. Perhaps things weren't that different there after all.

Watching the two jokingly smack each other and taunt one another would have made most people sitting across from the scene uneasy or awkward. Yet while most things made Michael awkward, he found himself laughing hysterically a the sight. It was so much laughter that the other two stopped their banter and looked at the sixteen year old with a wide grin. Quickly becoming aware of himself, Michael coughed slightly, ran his hands through his short and messy blond hair, and rubbed his blue eyes.

"Uh, sorry," he said awkwardly. "You guys are just a lot different than guys back home."

Michael's breath caught as he hoped he hadn't just accidentally insulted them. The truth was, at Salem he had fallen in with what many called the "popular scene." The only reason for this was that he had known many of the kids since they were toddlers but as they grew older, Michael had found himself feeling increasingly distant from the others. He'd go to their parties, eat meals with them, and be social and friendly, but it took every ounce of energy he had to put up the facade. He'd never really connected with any of them. However Bran and Connors didn't know that and the last thing he wanted was for them to hate him.

Having hopped on the nearest empty carriage, Michael had hoped to continue his trek to Hogwarts on his own. It would have been perfect. He'd have been able to admire the castle and surrounding areas alone and get a last minute recharge but just as the thestrals at the front of the line began moving, two other blond boys around his age had climbed on his carriage.

"It still is confusing to me seeing another sixth year here that I've never seen before," Bran said in his naturally higher voice. The carriage was making the final push up the hill and the imposing entrance to Hogwarts loomed near.

"Yeah, of all those years, I've never even heard of a transfer student," Connors added as he rummaged around the messenger bag he had brought. Michael's cheeks reddened and he scratched the back of his head nervously.

"It's probably not that common. My parents just got jobs with the Ministry here as representatives or something. They said I could stay at the Institute and use a portkey to travel for breaks or whatever, but I...didn't to I guess. It's just easier with them living here." As he spoke his pace quickened. He didn't want to let on how much he had hated the people at his old school, especially because it meant opening up. Though they didn't seem like the kind of people who would try to use what they knew about someone against them, Michael had learned his lesson about trusting someone too quickly.

There was a moment's pause and just as Michael feared he had made things too awkward, the carriage came to a creaky stop and his ocean eyes widened to take in the sight of the castle. Students everywhere climbed out of the carriages and began grouping with their friends. It soon became apparent to Michael that most of them grouped with others wearing the same colored ties. A flash of recollection appeared in his head as he remembered reading something about the house system at Hogwarts. They'd had something similar at Salem, though it hadn't been nearly as prevalent. It was now that Michael became painfully aware of the color of his tie- solid black.

"Hey, Michael come on man," Bran called a few feet away from the carriage. Michael stepped off, stood between the two others and realized that, starting with Bran and ending with Connors, their heights made an almost perfectly straight incline. The three began walking together and, although Michael was starting to feel more comfortable with them, he couldn't shake the fact that they both wore blue and gold ties.

"I wonder what they're going to do about your house," Connors said flatly.

"A very intriguing question indeed Mr. Connors," a strong, booming voice echoed from the doorway ahead of them.

There stood a tall, portly man with polished red hair and trimmed beard. His outstretched hands and glittering walnut eyes gave a cheery demeanor even if his size made him seem intimidating.

"Professor Grant, how are you," Bran asked politely with a handshake.

"Oh not too terribly Mr. Nile," the professor smiled. As the other students walked past their meeting, they called out hellos to the professor and Michael was amazed. He had seen teachers beloved by their students before, but never quite like that. "Now if you two will go ahead with the other Ravenclaws, I would like to have a word with the new pupil Mr. Loren here."

Connors nodded to the man and walked through the doorway. Bran hesitated for a moment, gave an encouraging look back to Michael, and followed suit. As the last of the students fluttered into the entry hall, Michael was left alone with the professor, Grant's glimmering eyes flickering over him as if he was reading a book. Michael gulped nervously and waited, feeling like a convict awaiting his sentence.


	2. Chapter 2: The Sorting

"Um, so I don't really know-" Michael began but was cut off almost immediately.

"Mr. Loren you do understand that you are the first transfer student at Hogwarts in at least a hundred and fifty years correct?" Professor Grant asked. It wasn't in a tone that necessarily worried Michael, but it wasn't the most warming either.

"I-I didn't know it had been that long, but yeah I kind of figured it was a weird thing to happen at most places."

"So you will understand if some students give you sideways glances or see you as strange?"

Michael couldn't help but smile slightly and shift his weight. Feeling like he didn't fit in was his life's story. He never saw himself as "unique" or "misunderstood" necessarily- those kids were more annoying than a glass of bad butterbeer. Yet he simply never felt that close to those in his group.

"I understand Professor."

"To my knowledge, students at the Institute begin their education at the age of eleven and continue until they are eighteen. Most of these students in your year have had best friends for nearly six years now." Grant's eyes and rosy complexion emitted a welcoming aura, yet Michael still feared at any moment the professor would tell him he didn't belong here and should catch the next train back to London. Grant seemed to pick up on something in Michael's demeanor and paused for a moment before continuing.

"What I am trying to say dear boy is that it may be hard to make friends at first, no matter if you are the most outgoing individual or an utter hermit. If you need anyone to talk to, you may come by my office any time."

Surprised to hear this, Michael wasn't sure what to say exactly and all that he could muster was a mere, "Thank you sir."

"Right," Grant said, swinging to his toes and then rolling back, "follow me, the first years will be arriving soon and you can't walk into the hall with them." Professor Grant's teeth beamed behind his beard and he turned to enter the hall.

Inside, Michael was amazed by the architecture. Something as simple as an entry hall was constructed with high, arching ceilings, ornate details, and paintings that were probably far older than America itself. He tried to remember as much as he could from his Magical Art History course and could recognize some of the styles the artists had painted in but, seeing as he had found the class largely boring, couldn't tell more. They moved slowly through the hall, Grant seemed to notice how much Michael was admiring the room. Truthfully, Michael was just happy because he could see the grand doors to what must be the Great Hall and he wasn't fully ready to enter. One of the doors was fully open and excited chatter about the new term could be heard, though it seemed that the first years had still not arrived yet as there were many spots empty at the end of the tables.

"What do you teach Professor?" Michael asked, eager to pause since they were so close now to the doors.

"History of Magic, a subject I heard you were quite interested in. Not to mention, you seem quite good at it, judging from your marks on your O.W.L.s." Michael felt a rush of excitement. Already, the teacher he liked the most- albeit the only one he knew- taught his favorite course. Still, something confused him.

"But sir, I think I remember reading that a Professor Binns or something," he said nervously. He had always had trouble with names.

"Yes until last year when I took his post. Headmistress McGonagall decided that, because more students were sleeping in his class than in their dormitories, it was time for a change in staff."

Michael slowly became more excited, perhaps transferring to Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad. However, as the patter of feet was heard emerging from the entrance behind them, he felt the nervous tug of anxiety once again.

"Ah, here are the first years! Step aside Mr. Loren," Grant said. Michael followed him a few steps to the side to clear way for the group of children filing past. Luckily, most of them appeared far more nervous than he and one pudgy boy seemed close to being sick. Still, he couldn't help notice that they all wore the same black robes as him.

"Sir, am I going to be sorted?" Michael's voice was barely audible over the sound of the shuffling first years.

"Oh, that's right! That's what I was supposed to talk to you about," Grant said with a long laugh. Michael wished he would sense the urgency of the moment and just give him a straight answer. "Professor McGonagall wanted me to bring you in and go over everything, not discuss history! Well, once the sorting hat has sung his song and the first years have all been sorted, yes, you will be sorted."

Michael's stomach turned. He didn't know whether to be happy and smile or break down and run out the doors. A house would certainly help him make friends, but why couldn't he just be left a lone? Then again, being the new kid, he probably didn't need anything else to make him stand out.

"Don't be nervous Mr. Loren," Grant sighed.

_Yeah that's the cure to all my problems right now. "Just don't be nervous,"_Michael thought sarcastically. A small pang of guilt flittered through his heart. After all, Professor Grant was only trying to be nice. In hopes of putting on a mask of confidence to assure Grant he was ready, Michael nodded firmly. The last of the first years stepped through the doors and it was once again only the two of them.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're off to a decent start. I will say that Mr. Connors and Mr. Nile are two decent chaps. Both fly a bit under the radar and can seem a bit off at times, but they've never caused the slightest of trouble. Now, let's head in shall we?"

Michael gulped and followed the man through the doors where he was immediately greeted with the beautiful sight of floating candles beneath a bewitched night sky. Under the flicker of their flames he could see four long tables at the end of which rested a fifth clearly reserved for staff. Before the staff table was a podium, behind which stood a slender witch who was clearly Professor McGonagall. She was speaking to the mass of first years before her, though Michael didn't catch much of what she was saying as he was too busy trying to spot Connors or Bran.

He followed Grant to the closest end of a nearby table, at which sat students wearing ties of black and yellow. Professor Grant received plenty of happily whispered greetings while Michael received a combination of warm smiles and confused glances. It seemed like a second later when Michael was snapped from his nervous gaze by a roar of thunderous applause. He snapped his head toward the front and realized the sorting had started and whomever it was had just joined the house whose table he sat at. Silently, Michael worried whether his sorting would be greeted by similar clapping or simply curious stares.

Student by student, their names and houses were called respectively. Slowly, Michael was able to remember the names of the four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. He was able to match up the colors of ties and crests with their respective houses and realized that Connors and Bran must have been in Ravenclaw. There was still one thing Michael wasn't sure about...

"I don't mean to pry or anything, but is a hat the best one to make a decision that will follow someone for the rest of their lives?" He asked quietly as another name was called, the group was getting thin. Grant looked at Michael for a couple of seconds in silence, then turned his eyes to the hat.

"The kids make the choice, the hat just announces it."

Grant kept his eyes fixed on the hat and offered no further explanation as if what he had said made complete sense. The only thing Michael really understood at that moment was that the hat had just sorted the last of the first years into Slytherin, meaning only one thing. As all the students erupted in applause at what they expected to be the end of the process, the erupted in excited conversations. Michael heard snippets of discussions on the upcoming classes or quidditch season and for a moment he felt something surprising-disappointment. It was a second later that a cough was heard coming from the far end of the hall.

Michael looked up to see Professor McGonagall still standing behind the podium and heard whispers of students asking why the sorting hat was still out. He knew their questions would be answered all too soon.

"Students, it appears we are not finished with the sorting ceremony." McGonagall began in a voice that made Michael know he did not ever want to make her mad. "There is one student left to be sorted into a house, a transfer student from the Salem Institute by the name of Michael Loren." Somehow, despite being on the complete opposite end of the hall and hidden behind all the other students, McGonagall zeroed her spectacled gaze in on him.

"Mr. Loren, will you please step forward."

At first Michael's feet didn't work and his body seemed to freeze in place. It took a reassuring not from Professor Grant and a nudge on the arm from a student next to him to get him to stand up. Stepping off of the bench, he realized that every single person was staring at him and, just like in his nightmares, he had to walk across the entire room with all eyes pinned. His heart racing faster than the latest Firebolt, Michael began walking toward the front. In sync with his movements, chatter around the Great Hall began as students whispered to each other things that Michael knew couldn't be good.

How'd his hair look? His posture? Was he walking funny? Was there toilet paper stuck to his shoe? All these questions crossed his mind as he crossed the floor. As he neared the stool where the sorting hat rested, he heard a student somewhere behind him call out, "I thought Salem only taught girls!" followed by enormous laughter. Just when Michael didn't think his face could get any redder, it began to feel like lava. He wanted to shout back that it was a common misconception and that, though it had started as a witches-only school, it now taught both genders. Still, he kept his lips tight, unsure he could say anything if he even wanted to.

"Now, Mr. Loren if you will please take a seat, I will place the hat on your head," Professor McGonagall said in a voice that made Michael wonder if she was trying to calm him.

A moment later he turned around and sat on the stool, realizing that every face was still turned to him and the room was utterly silent. He felt something touch his head and quickly most of his vision was blurred as the brim of the hat covered much, but not all, of his head.

"Hmm what have we hear?" A raspy voice inquired in his ears. Michael gasped as he couldn't remember any talking when the first years had been sorted. Perhaps only the wearer of the hat could hear the voice.

"Ha! I haven't had a transfer student in almost two centuries! Where are you from lad? Somewhere nice and warm or tropical like Brazil or Mexico? No? Oh, I see, America, the Salem Institute! Well let's see what we can find in your head...hmm..."

As the voice rattled on, Michael's heart felt like it could explode at any moment from pounding so hard. He knew how silly he must have looked to all the other students, sitting up there as a sixteen year old and being sorted. It was embarrassing!

"You'll have to stop worrying what the others think you know," the voice said.

"What?" Michael whispered, amazed he was having a conversation with a hat.

"Being embarrassed! You need to stop that if you want to reach your potential. Oh, I see a bright mind but your head keeps getting in the way. An idealist, artist, and complex, quite complex. If you can ever get things straightened out I feel you'll go a long way in life. Your empathetic nature and search for the greater meanings will lead far. But where to put you..."

The words of Professor Grant echoed in his ears louder than those of the hat and he began to wonder if what he thought Grant meant really was what he was trying to say. Did he have some say in where he went? If so, he had a slight yearning toward-

"Ravenclaw!"

The hat was swept off his head and for a second the sound didn't seem to be synced with the visuals as he heard nothing but saw a long table all standing up and clapping their hands. Finally as he took a step forward the sound caught up and he could hear the hall echoing with their applause. Following what the first years had done, Michael began walking toward the table of his new housemates and was about to sit at the closest end next to a girl five years his younger and nearly the same feet shorter when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

Looking up, he saw Bran standing up across from Connors who was motioning for him. Michael walked quickly, eager to get out of the center of attention, and saw that there was an empty seat next to Connors. Beaming, he took it and was greeted with several pats on the back and handshakes.

"We've got the next Edison!" called one Ravenclaw.

"He's going to be just like Roosevelt!" cried another, continuing the trend of referencing American muggle intellectuals.

Michael smiled and hoped he didn't actually have to live up to expectations like that just because he was in Ravenclaw. Still, he didn't have much time to worry too much because a moment later Bran whispered something that he wasn't expecting.

"We're going to have the biggest party tonight that Ravenclaw Tower has ever known!"


End file.
